Feathers and Ash

So I told myself I wasn’t going to post about this recurring dream/nightmare/experience, because it’s not like anyone would be able to understand or grok what can not be expressed in words but can only be experienced. And as if the recurring portion wasn’t bad enough, a thing happened that may end the series, but without the unexplainable context of the series, the finale may be just as indescribable.

Once again, @coldalbion​ reminds me I’m still a FNG at this and experience came long before I did and will be here long after I’m gone.

So. Fine. The damn memories are pricking at me anyway making me restless, like feathers poking out from under my skin. Continue reading “Feathers and Ash”

Spirit Journal: 2017-04-19.01

I wasn’t reaching for an answer. I wasn’t reaching for an acknowledgement. I wasn’t reaching for confirmation or a rebuttal or a rebuke or a reason. I just wanted to “stretch”. The only way to recover old skills long dormant is to use them again, after all. I had no expectation of actually doing anything.

What mattered is that I tried to do anything at all. Isn’t there a saying that “God will meet you halfway if you only but try.” ? Continue reading “Spirit Journal: 2017-04-19.01”

Dream Journal: 2017-01-13.01

The dream was weird from the start. Scenes joined together in the way oil and water homogenizes. Abrupt changes and jumps through devouring plot holes confused me and kept me from finding my intellectual footing. At a scene where my father does the impossible and acts in ways he would never do, I give up trying to secure lucidity and just go with the flow.

Aleister Crowley appears then to escort me away from my father, shocking me into full lucidity and prompting me to laugh deep incapacitating peals of laughter at the absurdity of this new scene. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-01-13.01”

Journal: 2017-01-05.02

I usually avoid listening/watching recordings of rituals, because historically, such recordings make me feel… uncomfortable. Maybe I pick up on spiritual echoes that ring me like a tuning fork. Maybe the years of shit I have survived and intentionally forgotten resonate in the mental caverns where my fear lairs. Maybe my lack of self-esteem made me feel dirty for watching undoubtedly genuine experiences that I did not have a right to observe, even though they were released explicitly to be observed.

I took a risk, and listened to an audio recording of a specific ritual that was published explicitly to be listened to at minimum, and to participate along with as standard. (What the fuck is time to spirits, amirite?)

Spoiler: I came out okay. Invigorated, even. Continue reading “Journal: 2017-01-05.02”